


Strawberry Jam

by p0ck3tf0x



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Babysitting, Children, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:59:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0ck3tf0x/pseuds/p0ck3tf0x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia is left alone with New France and expected to deal with the monsters under the bed and strawberry jam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Jam

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2013.
> 
> The piece below was drawn by Maplevogel (maplevogel.tumblr.com) and included with her permission.

 

Prussia leaned back into the plush armchair and admired the colour of the wine clasped between his fingers as France prattled on and on. The candlelight danced through the crystal, refracting and separating into a thousand rainbows.

His hands weaved through the air to punctuate a point as he spoke. He was passionate about the subject, that much was obvious, but that was nothing new; France was passionate about everything and everyone.

It was a pity that Prussia was not listening to a word that he was saying.

"… So I told him…"

Prussia let his gaze wander. The salon was painted in soft blues and silver with meticulous stencilling on the ceiling. The embroidered fabrics were luxurious and the furniture was much more delicate than the craftsmanship of his own kingdom.

It was beautiful but not functional.

"… And then he said…"

His eyes swept the mantelpiece and the painting of a small blonde child wearing uncomfortable clothes. The child was as beautiful as the salon with large lavender eyes and wispy curls. His skin was pale, though not as pale as his own, and his lips were the colour of red roses.

Prussia wondered if it was artistic license that made the child so striking or if there was, in fact, such a dear child wandering around.

"… And I said…"

There was a small sound of shuffling feet behind him and Prussia turned in his seat to see that same child hugging the doorframe.

It had not been artistic license. The child really was that beautiful.

Prussia was not sure if it was a boy or a girl, what with the trailing hair and long eyelashes, but he was sure it was of national stock; the child was wrapped in an unmistakable aura. As no new nations had been born as of late, it must have been a dominion or disputed territory.

It was wearing a loose white nightgown with a crimson bow decorating the collar.

"… And so you understand why I simply must go."

Prussia tore his attention from the dominion in order to stare at France. Perhaps he should have been listening.

"What?"

"But of course you understand!" France exclaimed. He noticed the blonde child tucked around the corner and clucked his tongue. "Ah, Matthieu! Come here and meet Gilbert! I'm sure that the two of you will be great friends."

He stood up and caught the dominion before he could protest. He dumped the child into his lap. Prussia stared at the child and the child stared back.

"This is New France. Matthieu, this is The Kingdom of Prussia."

"Francis…" Prussia started slowly as he set down his wineglass and tried not to jostle New France too much. "Are you telling me that you invited me here just to… Babysit?"

France flushed slightly but waved off the accusation.

"Of course not, but I simply must see him right away. You understand."

"… I'm not sure I do…" Prussia mumbled under his breath but France paid him no heed.

"I'll be back in a few hours, just you see. Besides, Matthieu is such a wonderful child. He shouldn't be a problem at all. Not at all." France gathered his coat in a storm of flustered energy and made for the door. "You'll get along just fine."

And all of a sudden, the two of them were alone. Prussia turned back to the dominion, warm in his lap, and stared into those oh so wide eyes.

"… I'm not sure we will…"

* * *

Prussia sat the child on the rug in front of him and picked up his wineglass again. New France blinked.

"So… Kid…"

"Matthieu," the dominion interrupted in the softest voice possible. "My name is Matthieu."

His French was different than that of his mentor. Whereas France spoke in the clipped, clean tones of Paris, his dominion spoke with rural flavourings and the taint of a hundred native dialects.

"Right. Matthieu. I… Hmmm…" Prussia trailed off, unsure. He usually got along quite well with children but it was late, he was tired, and something about the dominion unnerved him. Perhaps it was his eyes.

His lavender gaze seemed to be looking through him instead of at him.

He blinked again.

"Are you a bad man?" New France asked.

It was his turn to blink.

"What? No. Well, sometimes. Why?"

"You have a sword," the child mispronounced the word 'sword' as he pointed to the scabbard on his hip. "Papa said that only _heathens_ would wear their weapons inside a manor."

Prussia smiled wryly.

"Your 'Papa' is a prat, and a pansy besides."

"He is pretty like a flower, yes." New France seemed confused.

"No, a pansy as in… Look, nevermind that." He scratched his head, wondering how to explain the differing national customs to the child. "In my kingdom, no soldier would be caught without his sword. Even inside."

New France cocked his head to the side with a very serious expression. It did not suit his delicate features.

"Are they scared of monsters?"

"No, why…?"

"I'm scared of monsters."

Prussia took a sip of wine and looked out the window where the gnarled branches of a tree scraped across the windowpane. The sound was eerie.

"Are you scared of the monsters outside?" He gestured to the tree but the blonde laughed.

"No, that's a _tree_ ," he said as if Prussia were the silliest man he had ever met. He patted his knee. "Trees are not scary. I used to live in a tree before Papa brought me here."

"Did you now?" He smirked at the reassuring little hand on his knee.

"Mmhmm. Next to the river where the tribes met."

"Then what are you scared of?"

New France bit his lip.

"The monsters under the bed…" He whispered as if the monsters might hear him. It sounded like he was sharing an important secret and Prussia regretted that his own ward never told him secrets. It was adorable.

"Oh, yes," Prussia nodded sagely, "the monsters under the bed _are_ very scary."

The dominion opened his mouth in surprise.

"Then you believe me?!"

"Of course," Prussia nodded again. "I've seen them. They're very scary."

"Papa never believes me!" New France scrambled back onto his lap in excitement. "I told him that they have glowing red eyes but he just said to go to sleep. I can't sleep! They're scary!"

"… I have red eyes," Prussia said, pointing them out. "Are you scared of me?"

New France grasped his cheekbones between his little hands and stared very seriously into his eyes. Prussia worried that the child could see more than he should.

"… No," he said decisively. "Your eyes are not scary."

"Why not?" Prussia was curious.

"Because they're the colour of strawberry jam!"

Prussia paused. The dominion continued to stare into his eyes. His face was flushed and serious with puffed out cheeks and pursed lips.

Prussia burst into laughter.

"Oh, really?" He asked between chuckles, astounded. His enemies compared his eyes to the rivers of blood he left in his wake; his friends associated his eyes with rubies or garnets or even red wine. He had never heard anyone compare his eyes to something so sweet and innocent.

"Yes. And I like strawberry jam. It's delicious!"

Prussia pet his curls and the child settled further into his lap.

"Me too."

"Can we have strawberry jam in the morning? For breakfast?" New France yawned and leaned against his broad chest. Prussia wrapped an arm around him, humming.

"Sure, why not?"

"And can we play with my dollies?"

Prussia swallowed his pride.

"Yes."

"And will you show me how to use a sword?"

Now that was something he could get behind.

"Of course. Then you can take care of those mean old monsters all on your own."

His eyes began to droop and he snuggled even closer as he yawned again. Prussia smiled and finished his wine. He thought about shifting the child but decided against it.

"Can I stay here with you until Papa gets home?" He whispered. "I don't want to go to bed yet."

It was obvious that he should be in bed, that he was exhausted, but Prussia let it go. After all, there were monsters under his bed and Prussia had not taught him how to use a sword yet. His bedroom was scary.

"Yes."

Prussia slouched down in the armchair, relieved for once that the furniture was so elegant, and cradled the dominion. He felt his own eyes drooping, a combination of alcohol and warmth.

"You're a nice man. I like you. I don't think you're a 'heathen' at all…"

"I'm glad…"

"Do you like me too…?"

"Yes."

New France smiled and finally closed his eyes.

"Good night, mister."

Prussia yawned.

"Sweet dreams, Matthieu."

He fell asleep.

* * *

Prussia woke up to someone draping a blanket over him and the blonde child in his arms. It took him a moment to focus.

"Francis?"

"Yes, dear. I'm home. I see that you and Matthieu got along just fine."

Prussia looked down at the sleeping dominion. He was even prettier asleep than awake.

"I guess we did." He blinked. "Did you know that there are monsters under his bed?"

France chuckled.

"He has told me such, yes."

"I'm going to teach him how to use a sword."

"Oh, and turn him into a heathen like you?"

"Bah. You're just a pansy."

"Guilty as charged."

France offered his wrists up in a charade of a captured prisoner. Prussia laughed as the gesture but he could already feel himself falling back asleep. He rubbed his eyes.

"How did it go with… Whatshisname?"

"As well as can be expected. He kicked me twice but we made up."

"And by 'made up' you mean…?"

"Sex."

"Congratulations," Prussia mumbled and stared at the dying embers in the fireplace. It must have been late.

"Thank you." France reached out for his charge. "Would you like me to take him?"

Prussia shook his head and readjusted the child. New France sighed but did not wake up.

"We're alright."

France smiled, softer than usual and without leering. It was a nice expression.

"Alright. I'll be upstairs if you need me." He started to leave but Prussia caught his coat.

"Strawberry jam," he demanded, yawning. "For breakfast. Matthieu wants strawberry jam."

France frowned, opened his mouth to ask a question, before deciding that the reasoning was unimportant.

"I'm sure that I can manage a pot of jam."

"Strawberry jam," Prussia said again.

"Yes, strawberry jam," France confirmed, laughing. Prussia nodded and settled back into the armchair.

He left.

Prussia looked down at the dominion.

"You hear that, kid? Strawberry jam."

New France smiled and cuddled closer to his protector, dreaming of vanquished monsters and strawberry jam. Prussia kissed the top of his head.

Sweet dreams, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this piece has been kicking around for about fourteen months. I like the idea of Prussia meeting Canada when he was younger and still New France. It's just too cute! I can just imagine Prussia teasing Canada a couple hundred years later about monsters and strawberry jam. Canada would be so embarrassed.
> 
> This idea came from the cliché of describing his eyes as 'crimson', 'the colour of rubies', 'the colour of blood', etcetera. Most writers use those comparisons, myself included, and for good reason but I started thinking about how an innocent child might describe his eyes and this was born.
> 
> Oh, and I think that New France would have been an absolutely beautiful child; the quiet type that turns heads wherever he goes. I think that would have been one of the original reasons France 'adopted' him.


End file.
